The Inside Breaking Through

You ask why we cut? Why we mutilate ourselves? Why we leave scars on our bodies? Because it helps in some ways, but also, you will never truly know the extent of our pain, to what lengths we go to achieve things, to try to be friends with others, to try to be perfect, to see if we are loved, only to have it all come back to us. Everything we do, and nothing in return. I do it because I can’t control anything else, I need my outlet, it isn’t bad, for me, it is the closest thing to saving me right now. Some of us have no one to lean on, we have no one, nothing, just ourselves and that knife, or that piece of sharp glass, or that razor.

(Source: thisismyskyunderthesea)

I don’t like being the “favored” child. I feel so bad. I’m so unworthy. My sibling thinks he is a failure. With my dad telling him that all the time, it’s no wonder. I hope they can all get along when I’m gone. I’m afraid things might fall apart while I’m at college. I’ll come back and everything will be wrong. They stress me out. They are all sad, disappointed, and lost. Like me. Gah. What is wrong with everything?

PIG

I hate my body. I HATE IT. It’s so big and ugly and jiggly. And it’s all my fault. I tried to tone and diet and be healthy and I failed. Like always. Now I’ve got stretch marks from gaining it all back (and more I’m sure). I’m a disgusting whore. I just jiggle everywhere. I’m so fat. I can’t stop myself from binging. I hate BED. I know I have it. Just because it’s not diagnosed doesn’t mean I don’t have it. I’m a digusting pig and I know it. I want it to stop. I want control. Tomorrow I’m done. I can’t handle all this hate anymore. I’m done with fat. Forever. Or else.

Sudden Sickness

So I probably will get this job. I know it’s not a big deal and that every teenager should get one. I’d be working with a friend and I have enough “experience” to deal with people now. And I’ll just have to start paying attention to dates so I know when to call off.

Yet the very idea fills my heart with a sudden sickness. I get the all too familiar feeling of dread and fear. Like my heart is going to give out just thinking about it. It freaks me out. I wish I could get over it. It’s just my past coming back to prevent me from living my life. I need this job, yet I’m desperately praying that he called to say it’s not me who gets it. I’m scared and I shouldn’t be.

I wish there was a way I could bleed out this fear. Just take a razor to my arm to once and for all get rid of this feeling of anxiety. How am I going to survive if I can’t even handle a pizza gig? I need to be independent and earn money so it’s not as expensive for my parents to send me to college. Maybe I should talk to a counselor or something? But my pride won’t let me do that.

Just gotta keep telling myself that it’s not a big deal. I can do this. I can do this. Not a big deal. People get jobs all the time. N. is going to be there. It’s okay. I can do it. Relax and breathe. Don’t stress. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it…

Clouds

I’m sick of everything. School, clubs, my family, my friends. I just want to get away. Forever. I want to be a cloud. Fly away in the sky wherever the wind blows. Mysterious yet not hard to see. I feel like crying but I can’t. I feel like cutting. I just need a distraction. Something to take me away from the pain. I can’t handle it anymore. I just can’t. I won’t be who they want me to be. I’m not who anyone thinks I am. I’m done.

What do I do? If I cut deep enough will it all go away? Slice open everything and watch me bleed free from myself? God, why aren’t I good enough? What’s wrong with me? I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of me. Make it stop…